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My favorite aunt giggled through my dad's funeral. Not because she was heartless or uncaring, but because she was sad.

Sometimes laughter covers sorrow, frustration and anger, and can both heal and comfort, lighten and ease. It can lift and encourage. It shows compassion and kindness. Call it healthy, call it unhealthy, but above all, call it misunderstood. I can't tell you how many times I've been told that I don't know the first thing about pain because I laugh. But if I don't laugh, I'll cry (and laughing burns more calories).

This blog is a sister-site to my CTD Diaries. I hope it shows that Crash Test Dummies are people too and that all that crashing can bust a girl up, even if it is just a test.

I first started this blog as a place to post my poetry, stories and other such ramblings from my past, but now I just post whatever. And whenever.

About Me

About my serious side

Not to break the spell or spoil the fun, but you've probably figured out my real name isn't Dummy.

The CTD Diaries is my playground. No one tells the truth in their diaries anyway so I figured I should find another place to get real, where the head lights aren't so bright. I originally thought this would be a good place to post my creative writing, but I think this is just a good place to tell the truth.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Alot Like Never

A pastiche poem by Debbie Frampton and Tim O’Brien2001

It’s time to be blunt—Heat up the truth. Make it burn,get the hell out of the way and let it tell itselfcause here, man, every sin is fresh and original.

None of it happened,but it was as real as anything.A kind of falling.Boom-down.Higher and higher—The rockets red glare.Pure knowing.A lot like yesterday.A lot like never.

It’s not a game. It’s a form.A new wrinkle. Fine lines.And it requires a perfect balance betweencrazy and almost crazy—where things come together,but also separate.The distinction is important.

There’s a moral here.There’s a definite moral here.Once you’re alive, you can’t ever be dead.And it will always be that way.